


The Heat of Lestallum

by beforethequeen



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforethequeen/pseuds/beforethequeen
Summary: For the FFXV KM prompt: "I really want to see where Alpha Gladio goes into Rut and Noctis is the first Omega he sees so he takes it out on him. And then it triggers Noct's Heat so then it just ends up a mess. Bonus for size difference, mpreg, and cum inflation." Except this is tender and dub-con lite at best. Sorry, prompter, I hope you enjoy it anyway!Dully, Gladio knows they’ve slid from where they ought to be, but he’s knocked back a few shots of whiskey himself and the humidity in the Lestallum bar clouds his judgment.





	The Heat of Lestallum

The heat of Lestallum makes it difficult to breathe, difficult to clear the head. They long for nighttime when they return bruised and bloody from their hunts to the crowded city and the night is a little crisp but they can shed their jackets and the grime and roam the busy city with heavy change in their pockets. It’s a new life, one they have taken to quickly, maybe it’s the foreign town drowning them in or the open road or their murdered families, or just the damn heat of the comet but no one has uttered a word about Royal Arms or Altissia is nearly a week.

The lights of the city nearly blot out the stars, and their eyes don’t trail up, sticking to the faces in the evening crowd and the shelf full of liquor behind the next bar. Or. 

The look that Ignis fixes upon Gladio is hardly threatening, just a dull reminder that he is the one in charge of Noctis tonight. Lately, they’ve been more prone to letting the prince loose for an hour or two but it was merely twenty-two hundred hours and Ignis was already leaving their table to follow a man making eyes at him by the bar and Noctis is buzzing in the booth beside him, cursing at a new game he’s been playing on his phone, his knee pushing into Gladio’s thigh where it’s been for the past twenty minutes. Gladio couldn’t remember where Prompto said he was running off. 

Dully, Gladio knows they’ve slid from where they ought to be, but he’s knocked back a few shots of whiskey himself and the humidity in the bar clouds his judgment, keeps him from texting Prompto to check in on him, keeps him from texting Ignis is give him an address if he goes home with someone. Instead, he stands to order another drink.

“Get me one too,” Noctis says, gaze lifting from the phone to meet Gladio’s eyes. Gladio squints at him. Noctis’ pupils are blown and his face is open, curious. He’s been noticing it since the battlefield, but he can’t put a name to it. The look is only distantly familiar. The voice is softer than usual, but just barely.

“I think you’re cut off.”

“Says who?”

“Iggy.”

Noctis waves a hand out at the rest of the bar though he doesn’t take his wide eyes off the Gladio, his chin tipped back to look up at him. “Iggy doesn’t give a shit. He left you in charge while he sucks some guy’s cock.”

“Six,” Gladio growls, eyes darting around half-expecting the other man to appear over his shoulder and scold them to speaking of him that way. But Ignis is gone. Gladio isn’t worried about where he went.

“So you’re,” Noctis pokes a finger into Gladio’s abs, seeming to delight in how little give they have, “going to let me have another drink.”

Gladio roll his eyes and grunts. “Fine. Stay here.”

He does not miss the wicked little grin in the corner of Noctis’ lips before he turns away and walks to the bar. It’s hot in the small building, the low ceilings and sweaty bodies keep the heat stagnant, it’s like walking through a fog but Gladio squints through to the barkeep and requests another round of whiskey, dropping gil for the employee before she finishes making the drinks. She gapes at him for a moment before topping off the drinks and handing him the full glasses. Gladio is happy for the distraction, there are two women at the bar eyeing him with parted lips and he itches to approach them. Not his type, but. He can’t put his finger on it.

Noctis is thrilled with the strong drink and attaches himself fast to Gladio’s side, knocking their glasses together and drinking with a small smile on his lips that Gladio thinks he was not supposed to see.

By the time he has managed to stumble back to the hotel, Noctis fixed under his arm and safe in his grasp even as he trips over his feet and leans all his weight on his taller companion, Gladio’s head is clear enough to help Noctis get to bed. The smaller man does not assist him in removing his boots, instead sits up straight and never takes his eyes off of Gladio.

“A little help here, since you seem at least somewhat sober?”

Noctis shakes his head, and does not move, gaze glued to Gladio. He huffs and pulls off a boot before moving to the other.

“You’re actin’ funny tonight, prince.”

Noctis just shrugs.

Gladio yanks off the second boot and braces a hand on his crouched knee, staring up at the other man, who meets him with a faraway expression, black pupils fixed on Gladio. 

“Any clue where Prom hurried off to tonight?” Gladio tries.

“Don’t know.”

“Think he remembers our room number?”

“Probably won’t matter. He told me if he doesn’t come back some night I can probably find him on the pier. He’ll be fine.” Noctis says nonchalantly. 

“I can’t go out looking for him til Iggy gets back, anyway.”

“I’m shut in a hotel room, what could go wrong?”

Gladio eyes him warily, knowing there are all sorts of shenanigans that Noctis could get into in the room, including leaving it. He stays put. There is a strange sensation turning in Gladio’s gut and in his fuzzy mind he blames the booze or the strenuous hunt. He focuses instead on getting Noctis, who won’t leave his space, to relax. 

It takes a half-hour for Noctis to stop bugging Gladio where he sits on the second bed and reads and another two hours of playing his phone game lying perpendicular over the foot of Gladio’s bed before he is asleep. 

Gladio turns to his daily workout in the absence of sleep, keeping a watchful eye on the bed in case Noctis moves. He pushes himself to one hundred and thirty sit ups when he realizes the slick on his skin is different from his usual sweat, that the burning in his abdomen wasn’t from working his core, that the erection in his basketball shorts is absolutely abnormal.

He’s going into rut.

All he needs to do is get himself out of the room. It’s simple. It’s a matter of picking up his feet and walking out and leaving Noctis behind for a few hours. But he cannot think of anywhere else to go, doesn’t realize that all he needs to do is bring a few gil to the hotel lobby and ask for a second room, his mind clouded with the sudden smell of Noctis, sweet and omega and unsuspecting, the scent heightened by his own need.

This is why Noctis was acting strange, and those women at the bar that he had the unfamiliar urge to run to and chat up. The omegas could smell his rut brewing long before he could. It must have stirred up during their hunt or in the oppressive heat of the city streets at night, but Gladio didn’t prepare himself, didn’t have the wherewithal to tell Ignis to keep an eye on Noctis in his place. The four of them have gotten sloppy, enough so that Gladio ignored a lesson he had been taught when he presented as a teenager: he is never to be alone with Noctis during their primes.

He stares at the bed, at Noctis lying on top of the sheets in just his briefs and a borrowed t-shirt. The sight of his friend is gone, leaving behind long lines of pale skin glowing in the moonlight. He grips the doorknob to the hallway and yanks it open before letting it close again, his feet still planted inside the room. Gladio walks toward the bathroom to lock himself in, then stops halfway and looks back at the door. 

“Dio?”

Gladio’s eyes shoot to the bed when Noctis is mumbling into his pillow, his hips visibly writhing around. “What’s going on?”

“I gotta leave.”

“Leave? Why?”

“Now. I gotta,” Gladio grinds out, eying the door. He could go anywhere.

Noctis does not speak next, instead through the pinprick silentceof the room, the window cracked open the quarter inch the hotel allows filters in only gentle mumblings of the street, and Gladio can hear clear over the white noise clear as day the small gasp from Noctis when he realizes what is going on, why Gladio has to leave. The scent must surely fill the room, the window barely letting it escape. 

Gladio is panting, he can hear himself. It would be embarrassing if he was not so distracted by the burning urge in his groin or by the sight of Noctis’ glowing thighs beckoning him, hips still writhing minutely. Like a moth to a flame, he takes a step forward. 

Noctis grunts and slides up the bed, away from him. Dread sinks in Gladio’s gut, the distinct feeling that he is doing something wrong. He needs to leave, he has to get out of here, but his eyes are glued to those thighs, to the dark space left between them.

“What are you still doing here?” Noctis asks, face in the pillow.

Gladio pants, doesn’t say anything. He does not have an excuse, the reasoning of Noctis not being able to be left alone all night and the primal urge telling him to come closer rendering him silent. 

“You want something from me,” Noctis says, matter of factly, his voice thick. “And we’re alone.”

Faraway sirens are wailing in Gladio’s head, and he tries to focus on them over the need in him. Noctis isn’t fighting this, isn’t telling him to leave, isn’t afraid, he’s just rocking his hips against the mattress and imploring him. It would be so easy. He’s _not supposed to_. He swore he would not. He swore in front of his father and the six that he would protect Noctis with his life. It was dangerous, an alpha shield with an omega king, and they all know their beta friends were partly put in place to drive some sense between the two of them.

A scent wafts into the air from Noctis and Gladio wakes the fuck up. He storms to Noctis and grabs his arm, yanking him off the bed.

“What are you doing?”

The skin on skin contact burns, and Gladio contains a roar of desire as he pushes Noctis across the room to the bathroom. Noctis is stumbling under him, trying to look at him over his shoulder, but Gladio keeps him firmly out ahead of him. An arm twists back, knuckles brush his abdomen and Gladio growls. “Fuck, no.”

He pushes Noctis into the bathroom and shuts the door. He presses his forehead against the heavy wood separating them, wanting to run in after him, his self-control fraying. “Lock it.”

He does not hear the click.

“Lock the fuckin’ door and do not open it until you hear Ignis or Prompto, do you hear me?”

There is a small silence. “Yes, sir.”

Gladio groans and pushes his whole body against the door, dragging his nails across the surface when he hears the metal lock turn into place, cutting him off. 

Gladio spins back into the room, sits on the bed and glares at the door even as he shoves his basketball shorts down his legs. He takes himself in hand without foreplay, not needing any buildup or teasing, his eyes glued to the wall separating himself from Noctis, from _his omega_. It’s a dangerous thought, but Noctis is safe behind the door. Gladio can’t make a mistake like this. He can still smell him lingering in the air, the familiar scent of Noctis, the sweet undercurrent of his natural omega scent, and worse, the tang peppered in that is unmistakably arousal, minute and unattended to. Gladio growls and rips away his shirt.

He climbs up the bed to where Noctis was laying and presses his nose into the fabric where Noctis writhed his cock through his underwear, the scent of arousal flooding his senses. Gladio groans and wraps his hand around the base of his cock, feeling the slight bulge of interest at the base of his solid length. His body knows who it is that he wants, knows that boy is an omega ripe for mating. He throbs in his firm grip. 

Gladio strokes himself slowly, hand tight to make up for the painful pace, rests his cheek against the bedding where his prince once lie, breathing him in and imagining Noctis still here with him, not locked away and wanting. He imagines dragging his mouth down Noctis’ back, biting his hips and savoring every gasp and whine, knowing Noctis would sound so pretty for him. This is not the first rut Gladio has spent fantasizing about Noctis, but it’s the first where they are alone and the wrong move could give Gladio exactly what he wants: Noctis’ legs to spread and let him inside. He groans and cums into his hand, dripping on the hotel sheets already laden with Noctis’ smell. 

The knot at the base of his cock fattens halfway, and Gladio groans low and long, aching for a body to swell inside of. He isn't satisfied, his body knows what he’s missing, knows he could have it if he just beat down the door. Instead, Gladio slides up the bed and grinds his cock in the ripe scent Noctis’ cock left behind. 

He keeps himself there, fucking the mattress like a cheap imitation. His knot is throbbing, like his heartbeat has relocated itself and his breathing is fast to match, following a rhythm that seems to repeat _Noctis Noctis Noctis_. All the pressure of his arousal is building in his knot. 

And then he hears it—a small whimper on the other side of the door, tiny and needy and _perfect_ for him.

Gladio freezes, cock dug against the sheets and whips his head to look at the bathroom door, unchanged. His keen ears listen closely, blocking out everything but the need to hear Noctis again. And he does. Another whimper and a rustle of fabric. Gladio’s cock jumps. Noctis is touching himself, he knows it. He bites the pillow beneath his head and groans, fighting the urge to run to the door and beat it down. He ruts against the bed in earnest, listening for the omega as he discerns the sound of skin rubbing against skin and minute changes in his breathing. 

It’s the most painful rut he has ever had, just feet away from the omega he cannot have. His alpha instinct is screaming at him, clawing at his insides. There is an omega nearby and he wants what this alpha has. There is a limit to Gladio’s prided self-control.

A small pained moan reaches him through the door and Gladio growls, clenching his fists in the bedding, ignorant to the tearing in the sheets as he tries to find another outlet for the tension building in him. He barrels down after his orgasm, chasing it as he ruts harder against the sheets.

“Gladio?”

 _Fuck_. Gladio turns to the door, but it’s just a voice.

“Gladio, _please_.”

“Stay. In. The. Bathroom.”

“Gladio, I—”

“ _Noct_ , don’t open that fucking door.”

The brat, that spoiled princess, turns the door handle and the light from inside filters into the hotel room, and with it, the sharp smell of heat. 

It changes everything. The self-control Gladio maintained fraying until snapping. He sits up on his haunches and glares at the crack in the door, at the dark silhouette of his lithe charge standing there with a hand on the doorknob and the other between the legs. 

His knot throbs. His mouth waters.

“Stay,” Noctis says shakily as he flicks off the light and steps out of the bathroom. Gladio tracks him closely, not taking his eyes off Noctis for a moment as the younger man pads over to the bed. His sharp alpha eyes can just about make out the nervousness in Noctis’s face, can see him biting his lip even through the darkness of the room. 

Gladio does not move, obeying his omega’s orders. His cock hangs heavy and dripping between his spread legs, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. When Noctis stands before him, he looks him over and Gladio hopes he likes what he sees. 

“Not gonna be able to hold myself back much longer,” He says between his teeth.

“I don’t want you to, can’t you smell me?”

Gladio takes a deep inhale, using that permission to openly, greedily suck in his omega heat. 

Noctis’ pupils are blown wide and Gladio imagines he must look similarly wrecked. 

Noctis doesn’t say anything, but he lifts a knee to rest on the bed and touches Gladio’s thigh and the brakes are off, abandoned somewhere behind them as Gladio charges toward and grabs Noctis, lifting him easily by the hips and dragging him into the bed with him, rolling on top of him and sliding in between his legs. 

Noctis’ arms grapple at his shoulders, immediately gasping and moaning and Gladio grinds against the wetness between his legs, sliding his cock through the sticky heat without a goal. 

“Omega, omega,” He pants into Noctis’ neck, the sweat of his skin fresh and sweet. 

“Alpha,” Noctis whispers in kind, writhing his hips against Gladio’s, throwing off the rhythm. 

“You’re in heat.”

Noctis nods, mouth open against Gladio’s jaw, teeth scraping through his stubble. 

“I did that.”

Noctis nods again. “You did, you did. I don’t mind. It _hurts_.”

Gladio rolls his boy onto his stomach and lays over him, burying his nose in Nocti’s unruly hair as he ruts against his plump cheeks. Noctis’ hand reaches back to grip his bicep where he braces himself. His hand is so small, wrapping not even halfway around Gladio’s arm. His nails dig into the ink, gripping him, trying to claim him. He has to know he’s already made his mark. 

Gladio is caught up in the scent of him, every inch of his skin offers a new smell, something familiar and comforting but new and tantalizing. Gladio wants to breathe only him, wants to stand forever at his elbow surrounded in the scent of his omega, his prince. 

Noctis is grinding back up into him, his hips wriggling to find his length. Gladio pulls back to watch him, to see those tight muscles in Noctis’ back strain and curl as he circles his hips. He’s so small, laid beneath Gladio he can be entirely covered, concealed from the world in the safety of Gladio’s protection. For a moment, his heart aches, the knowledge settling in his bones that this is exactly where he needs to be. He should be holding himself back from Noctis, but he has never felt more in his proper place with Noctis beneath him, trying to get Gladio inside him. Gladio wraps a hand around his hip, small and bony and so easy to move into position, and lifts him enough for Gladio to fall over him and seek his inner warmth.

Noctis’ rim instinctually opens when Gladio’s cockhead presses against it. Noctis begins mewling, pushing back against the harsh grip on his hipbone to urge him inside. Gladio holds them still, gaze swooping over Noctis’ back and up to his eyes that seek him over his shoulder. “Gladio, please.”

And Gladio pushes in, buries himself right to the hilt. He pants up at the ceiling, at the tight heat surrounding him. Noctis is small and hot and open and he has never felt anything so gratifying, never felt like he needed to be somewhere more than where he is right now. Noctis is writhing beneath him, gasping into the mattress and tugging at the torn sheets.

“Fuck me, Gladio. Please, come on. Fuck me, Alpha.”

Gladio hunches over Noctis and splays a large hand on his lower back, keeping the smaller man in place as he drags his hips back to pull nearly all the way out of him then slams back home. Noctis shrieks and throws his head back, his entire body arching under Gladio’s unmoving hand. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Noctis yells, his back still struggling to arch farther, to let Gladio sink impossibly deeper inside him. Gladio does not know how he fits and how Noctis could still not think he is enough. His entire ass seems to spread around Gladio’s thickness. But Noctis is still begging for it, body heat rolling off him and making it hard for Gladio to breathe as he pumps his hips in and out of Noctis’ small body. 

Noctis’ insides spasm around him and Noctis drags himself up to his elbows, bowing his back and looking at Gladio over his shoulder. Even through the darkness he looks flustered and red.

“Come on, Alpha. Give me your knot.”

Gladio gasps, his hips stuttering and his knot pulsing where it knocks up against the rim of Noctis’ ass. He is finally where he needs to be and his body knows it.

“Give it to me, motherfucker.”

“Noct, Noct, I can’t—”

“I don’t care about anything but this,” Noctis gasps out. Gladio knows it’s biology, but there is also something darker there to unpack at a later point. In the moment, Noctis is begging Gladio to cum inside him and all logic has slid away. Duty, responsibility, the planned future: all gone. It’s nothing but the two of them on the hotel bed just moments from being bound together and Noctis is looking at him with open vulnerability and Gladio lets go.

The white heat rocketing through and out him makes his massive body quake, his fingers digging into Noctis’ narrow hips and his chest falling over Noctis’ to bury his face in his neck, breathe there while he empties himself inside his prince, their hips flush together. Noctis whimpers, his lithe body still as he receives him. 

“Do you feel that?” Gladio whispers into the damp baby hairs at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Noctis breathes, “Big.”

“Getting bigger.”

Noctis groans and slaps Gladio’s hip. “Up, up, I wanna cum.”

Gladio wraps an arm around Noctis’ waist and gingerly lifts him both until they are in a low kneels, Noctis’ chest still sandwiched against the bed. Their connection is powerful but painful and every movement of their muscles makes them tense and groan. Gladio’s other hand envelopes Noctis’ entire length, precum leaking over his fingers as he holds him fast and unmoving, just treasuring the pulse inside it as Noctis’ groans turn to needy whimpers that Gladio wants to satisfy. Still locked inside him, Gladio rolls his hips just slightly, just enough to rub against Noctis’ spot if his reaction is anything to go by. 

“You’re… gonna knock me up.”

The sentence and its casualness make Gladio freeze. Noctis says it like it’s nothing terrifying, like he wants it, like it’s the inevitable result of their fucking. It might be. Gladio distantly knows it might be but there are ways to prevent it after the fact. And yet, Noctis is babbling into the pillow and rolling back against him the second Gladio stops doing the work. “Big Alpha knot keeping your seed inside me, you want to knock me up. You want this as much as I do.” 

Fuck, _fuck_. 

“Make me cum, Gladio. Wanna cum on your knot.”

Gladio strokes him once, twice, and Noctis is shaking in his arms and shooting all over his fingers, pillow under his face muffling the orchestra of sounds tearing from his throat.

Gladio leans back, tenuously so as not to hurt them, and surveys the man beneath him, his narrow shoulders and small perspiring back, the gnarled scar slashed across his spine. He is beautiful and small, and the instinct inside Gladio tells him to protect this creature, to love and serve, and keep this _mother_ safe. It’s such a clear, instinctual thought settled with unquestioned certainty that it makes him release one lone dry sob. 

They made a mistake, the two of them, together. Their nature called them, but their group had been lax, been free of responsibility for so long that Gladio hadn’t worried about anything like this for weeks, had been accustomed to the group of them sleeping around with the cityfolk, hadn’t worried about making a mistake with Noctis when they were in stasis surrounded by strangers. And yet. 

Noctis looks up at him over his shoulder. Gladio is struck with the urge to let him up, clean him off, and settle him into bed, but he cannot even pull out of him yet. Instinct has shifted from blind arousal to nurture and it’s got him so blindsided. It usually takes several rounds to satisfy his rut.

One of Noctis’ hands, both lying limp over the bed, fumbles down the bedding to reach under himself. Gladio hisses quietly when Noctis’ fingers experimentally touch where the two of them are connected, two light taps against his engorged flesh. “When will it stop?”

Gladio heart aches, shame rises in him. “I don’t know, another fifteen minutes? It’s never been like this before. With someone.”

“Well, me neither, clearly.” Noctis gives him a look then reaches down to pet Gladio’s balls. “Help me get comfortable.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Gladio obeys and gingerly moves them so they are lying on their sides. Noctis’ hips have to be raised to rest against his own, and Gladio props an arm under him to keep him elevated and comfortable. He brushes a hand through Nocti’s hair, the two of them settling into a long silence as they wait for their bodies to unwind. 

Gladio remembers the day Noctis presented, the two of them sparring on the mat under the watchful eye of Ignis over the top of his book when suddenly Noctis dropped under his hand. Ignis shot upright, dropping his textbook to the ground and rushing to Noctis’ side. Gladio stood, dumbfounded and uncertain as Ignis checked his vitals and glared up at Gladio. “Something’s wrong with him.” 

Defensive, Gladio crossed his arms, “Well, shit, Iggy, if you know something was wrong why didn’t you tell me before we started fighting? You’ve been dogging him all practice.”

“I wasn’t certain, but I think it’s…” Gladio never knew Ignis to leave a sentence hanging, but the scrutinizing look in his eyes told Gladio that it was serious. And then the smell filled the air and Gladio stumbled backward, hands out to balance him and staring down at Noctis in horror. Ignis said what Gladio had realized, “He’s going into heat.”

Gladio was shoved backwards, Noctis pulled out of sight even as his normally bright blue eyes snapped out to reveal only blown black pupils tracking Gladio over Ignis’ shoulder. Gladio shivered, unable to look away and fighting his body’s urge to follow after him. 

As a child, Gladio had memorized a laundry list of rules for the Shield to the King at least a hundred times long, but being pulled aside the following day to be given a whole new set was jarring. This was serious. As a young Alpha, Gladio knew the risk the moment Noctis was taken far enough away from him for Gladio’s head to clear of the smell of heat.

But now. Noctis’ hand is skating low over his stomach. 

“I’ve never had a heat fade so quickly,” He muses quietly. 

“I think, uh, we might need to go to the pharmacy tomorrow.”

Noctis hums to himself, sounding eerily peaceful despite what Gladio is trying to imply. He thinks Noctis gets it. “For now, this is good.”

When they are able to detangle themselves, Gladio lays Noctis out on the bed and brings a wet cloth from the bathroom to clean him up with, taking care to wipe away the sticky perspiration covering him and the cum dripping down between his legs. Noctis takes it in stride, unmoving except for the hand stroking slowly over his belly. 

Gladio does as he instinctually needs, cleaning up his partner and burying him in blankets. When he is finished, he sits on the edge of the bed and watches the door, waiting for someone to find them in the mess they’ve made. They feel a thousand miles away from Insomnia, a million miles from reality, and Gladio does not want to go to Altissia and continue their journey. 

The silence in the room seems to clear as the sounds of the city filter their way back in. Distant music and drunken rowdy voices murmur to them. Noctis reaches for him and Gladio slides up beside him and pulls Noctis to rest on his chest, the least he can do for inciting the downslide of events. But Noctis seems content and doesn’t stop stroking his belly until he falls asleep.

Gladio stares at the ceilings, wondering how much longer he will have his moment of peace with Noctis before Ignis sneaks in or Prompto thuds against the door, the scent in the room surely impossible to ignore even to their beta senses. He waits the berating they are sure to receive. For now, Gladio’s hand replaces the one that fell away from Noctis’ stomach, petting over the soft skin and already wistful for something that had never truly begun.

**Author's Note:**

> please yell at/with me @dfstarboy on twitter


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